I like You Too.

You wouldn’t know it by looking at me today, but I used to be shy. In middle school, I couldn’t even talk to girls. In high school, I got a little bit better, but was still deathly afraid of rejection. I had a warped sense of romance. I used to read Shakespeare, I loved his sonnets. Required reading for sure, but I thought they were the epitome of romance. My favorite was sonnet 130. To be honest I didn’t remember the number, but through the magic of Google, I just typed in “Shakespeare sonnet breath” and that’s all it took to bring it up. The internet is amazing. This was my paradigm. I thought this was the truest expression of romance.

So instead of asking girls out to a movie or for ice cream, I just kind of stared googly eyed at some unrequited object of my desire, (extremely sexist, I know) Instead of going to dances I spent my time laboriously writing sonnets of my own. A few times I even mustered up enough courage to give them to some girls.

I wouldn’t recommend this.

The empirical evidence suggests that your chances of obtaining a date this way are extremely dismal.
A sonnet is a fourteen line poem written in iambic pentameter. In case you don’t remember, iambic pentameter is a combination of ten unstressed and stressed syllables. It gives the poem a song like rhythm, you know . . .if you actually can read it out loud with self-confidence.

Needles to say, I am not longer a fan of poetry. I fucking despise poetry. I’m strictly prose. I just buy cards like everyone else. I’m not really a fan of them either.
A couple of weeks ago someone pretty special, her name is Kim, gave me a little book entitled I Like You, by Sandol Stoiddard Warburg and illustrated by Jacqueline Chwast.

I can not pronounce either of their names.

It was cute, really cute. I could probably plagiarize the whole thing and it would take up a page, but it was nice and sweet. One of the lines is:
“I like you because
When I tell you something special
You know it’s special
And you remember it
A long long time.”

It’s poetry and I like it. I like it because I like the person that gave it to me. It was much more thoughtful than a card, but what really floored me was the fact that she wrote something underneath the book cover. I unwrapped it like a gift. I’m not going re-write it, because it was special, just for me.

I’m 34, and this is the first time anyone’s ever written anything like this for me. I just felt the need to share that. Sure I’ve received cards, but those are things written by other people. This book was written by someone else, but the little inscription on the inside cover—that was her. That was different. That, among other things, is why I’m in love.

IDGAF

New Year’s resolutions are for people who lack the ability to be honest with themselves. If you really want to quit smoking or lose weight—Do it now. Don’t resolve—take action. Just do it, not because of some slogan on a box of Nike’s—because the second you resolve to do something—you are hesitating. Hesitation doesn’t accomplish anything.
For some reason I’ve been meeting a lot or writer’s lately. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while, but I’ve always stopped myself. I’m way too critical. I have some ideas and I begins to write a story, but they seem to all end up being dragged to the recycle bin. So I’ve decided to write a blog. I’ve started this before, I’ve written some things here and there, but I always felt like I need some kind of gimmick. Blogs that have a lot of reader seem to be about something, perhaps cookie recipe blog, or a political activist blog.
I don’t want to do that. I tried here and there, but I don’t think it’s for me. I thought about doing a blog that reviews as seen on TV products, which is ironic because I don’t even watch TV. There needs to be an objective third party review of all these products. Some are decent and some are huge rip offs.
This is not going to be about a subject though. This is going to be a verbal exercise. I’m just going to commit myself to write every day for ten to thirty minutes, just to practice. The grammar may not be perfect, I might not throw in many polysyllabic words and no one will probably read it. I might write about my friends, or doing some card tricks at bars, or dating, or whatever. I’m not sure yet.
This is more like a diary, but with no key and I’m not hiding it under my bed.
I had an epiphany the other day. Someone asked me what changed about me? She knows who she is and I’m not going to mention why, but after careful consideration I realized what it was. I have found the key to happiness. This is the key that will set yourself on the path to accomplish all your hopes and dreams. Anything in life is for the taking if you just recite this little incantation. It works like magic. Brace yourself. Here it is:
“I do not give a fuck.” That’s all you have to do. Of course I don’t really believe in “magick,” but this is as close as you’ll get to anything supernatural. Let me explain. Let’s say you meet a woman at the grocery store and you think she’s really attractive, and you want to meet her, but you chicken out. Maybe it’s because you haven’t shaved, or you’re not feeling very attractive because you’re bumming it in your pajamas or maybe you’re just a pussy that has no self-confidence. If you didn’t give a fuck you would have asked for her number. Maybe she would have said no, maybe she would have given you a fake number or maybe you would have met the woman of your dreams, but if you give a fuck it makes you hesitate. If you don’t give a fuck, you become indifferent to rejection and are able to take action.
It took me a long time to learn this. I used to be too polite, I was always afraid to say what I really wanted to say in general. When religion came up, I used to just go with the flow and keep my mouth shut and just pretend that pray with everyone at the table. I don’t do that anymore, and I feel a lot better about myself.
When it comes to writing though—I still give a fuck. What if I’m not good enough, what If I don’t know what I’m doing what if my vocabulary isn’t up to par? What if I don’t know how the story is going to end? What if my character development isn’t good enough? What if I don’t have enough information? What if what I write is offensive? What if it gets rejected?
A better question is. . . What if I just don’t give a fuck?